There’s some very good benefits to giving up on the whole “real writing” deal.

Like stats, I can finally give up on checking the dang stats every time I publish a new post here. Sure I still look, but it’s easier to shrug them off now. Also, it’s a tad bit easier to pull something out of nothing for NaBloPoMo, I’ve lost the worry over “What will Blogher want to see?” and “What will they feature, or better yet Syndicate?” And there’s the daunting, “Oh my gawd, people will see that post and think I’m crazy for even thinking I could be a writer!” Lost that one too.

I needed a huge dose of “I don’t care” a very long time ago. Because I always cared, always, and I cared too much.

Which is a confusing mix of inner voices, because all the time when I was striving for this goal or that, letting my feelings get tied into who did what, and why not me… the whole time I was battling whether or not any of it was even the path for me. Mental punishment for both trying and for not trying hard enough.

Now I get to sick back and laugh at it all. And it feels good. I don’t have to care anymore. I can just enjoy putting words out into the interwebs… or not.

Granted, quitting something before you even really step out and try it on, probably isn’t the best “Go me” moment. Because when you get down to it, blogging and writing, are a whole heap of sameness, yet couldn’t be further apart. There’s such safety hiding behind little blurbs of thoughts, but writing, as in sending your works out to someone specifically, waiting for them, hoping they choose you… yeah.

Maybe one day I won’t be able to hold back those little voices in my head who want to walk down the aisle of a bookstore and see my name sitting on the shelf. But for now, I’m happy to be free from them.

I’m tongue tied this morning, or more so finger tied. I’m tripping over thoughts as I try to type them, and I’ve already wasted too much time this morning staring at this blank screen, so let’s make this easy, shall we?

Going with the theme this month from BlogHer, 10 things I love in no particular order as they randomly pop into my head:

Waking up early, and having what I call “A Date with my Brain”. Aka, me time, with my coffee and complete silence.

Warm rains. The kind you can stand out in without freezing your arse off.

Sketching with thick paper and a super sharp pencil.

The smell of a stable. Something about the mix of leather, hay, and horse hair gets me every time.

I’m not big on giving out dog training advice via the interwebs, or even the phone. Every dog is so different, and every owner is different too, and in 99% of cases there is no one way fits all approach to anything.

And too, I’m a Dog Trainer for one of my many livings. I have a student loan I’m still paying on. I need to get paid and such.

But in saying all of that, my friend had a scary situation last night, that many of us have faced before, and it’s one that could really get someone hurt, in more ways than one. Her dog jumped the fence and took off running.

Stopping this from ever happening is a pretty easy fix with most dogs, but not one that can be done from my office on a computer screen. So let’s talk about what you should do when your dog takes off.

I’d bet 89% of us would immediately panic. Our dogs feel that. We tense up, our hearts begin to race, we move in jerky actions, lounge forward, scream loudly… sorta like a rabid ape lounging towards our pets. So they run, they run for every inch of their life. Would you run to a human acting like that? Right.

So the first thing to do is to try to relax. Easier said then done, I know. If they’re standing there, not running yet, try dropping to the ground, relaxing, calling their name gently. Acting like there’s nothing going on. If your dog has had some decent obedience training, you can fake a treat in your hand and call out some commands, like tricks, happily, and get their focus on you.

Again, in the same spirit, if they are running, or they have that look in their eye that they want to take off, turn it into a game. Most dogs love a good game of chase, and most of them never get a good game of it in with their owners. So you take off running, jumping around like prey, in the opposite direction. Playfully call their name. Act like an idiot. Make them want to chase you. And never immediately grab them when they do come back. Offer tons of praise, act like nothing happened.

Another good exercise is to practice these things outside, with distraction, on a leash. The two most important commands in a dog’s life is “Come” and “Down”, so seek out a good qualified trainer if your dog doesn’t know these commands perfectly.

And remember, no plan is ever fool-proof, especially with an animal. Make sure they have a micro-chip that is registered, and always keep current pictures on hand. And never, ever panic.

This is just a quick tip, and there’s so much more I could cover. I’d be happy to answer any questions that can be answered online.

ps. legal stuff: I cannot be held liable for you reading this information and it not working with you and your pet. Dog training is a physical and demanding sport and discretion should always be used. Be smart and safe out there. 😉 Aka you can’t sue me. ❤

The weekend started normal. Way too many plans, way too many things I wanted to get done. Hanging out with my mom, the usual.

After a week with my son being in and out of some stomach bug, that was minor, but still icky, and then our daughter ending the week with it, the weekend was welcomed.

And then I got it. This stupid stomach bug. Which is bad enough, because your stomach swells like you’re 7 months pregnant, and you contemplate moving all your belongings into the bathroom, and eventually your body just runs out of steam… but then it gets worse.

Then I get a panicked phone call from my mom.

My jack russell, the last of the two dogs she had kept from my days in dog training school, is sick, very sick. And she’s rushing her off to the emergency vet.

So then it’s tossing and turning, from a stomach that’s trying to birth a 20 pound alien of sickness, and not knowing if your very young jack russell is ever going to be okay, and wishing you weren’t an hour away to comfort your mom, and a little bit of prying to God wondering what the heck He’s trying to do with taking your two best dogs, your goat, and now another pet in less than two years…

And then it’s biting your tongue as the rest of the family need this and that, and right now, all the while you’re just trying to stay in one piece.

She passes in the middle of the night. Heart failure out of nowhere that they couldn’t stop. And I’m thankful that it was a pet, and not a human, but the emptiness grows.

So I do the stupid and make a coffee date, just to get out of the house. As I’m rushing to make one stupid bagel before I leave, dying from hunger. And then the cream cheese is frozen and won’t smooth out. So I pull out a stick of butter and try to microwave it for a second to soften it up, and then the microwave shoots sparks out at me. Then the toddler, laughing the whole time, just takes my bagel and runs off with it.

Hungry and now late, I rush out to the car, and it’s on empty.

I get gas and hit traffic, because a bear is standing on the side of the road…

And I laugh and cry, because this stupid life, just keeps on happening.

When I sat down to write out my annual 101 things in 365 days list (posted on my other blog) somehow my fingers cranked out, “Tackle another NaBloPoMo”. I obviously wasn’t thinking, and I’m sure I was just trying to fill in spaces on the list, and probably, just probably I was suffering through another moment of insanity fueled by 70* weather surrounded by snowy days.

I don’t have time for this. Every free minute I have should be filled with knitting, and crocheting, and making soaps and such. Because momma needs a new car that doesn’t die every time it rains.

And too, I have a shiny new blog for the business to work on, and I need to be promoting that, and being all business like, and a garden, and animals, and a kitchen remodel that’s been halfway done for months now…

Let’s not forget the whole, I know better than to do NaBloPoMo in February, I should pick a short month, and I should definitely plan ahead, with scheduled ideas, with some kind of plan…

But. It. Is. On. That. Damn. List.

And I want to slay that list this year. And why not get to it right now.

And since I gave up on any sort of actual writing, aren’t I not free to write whole blog post about nothing?!

Insanity. It’s what this friggen cold weather peppered with tornadoes does to me.

I’ve been passing up the chain awards lately. At first they were all awesome and exciting, and then they became redundant and awkward. These things really float through the webs faster than the speed of light, and then they start to lose their specialness. They become insincere all too quickly, like tarnished glitter.

But sometimes we need to stop for a minute and just get down with our sappy sides. Sometimes we need to stop the day-to-day, the ideas, the to-do list and take a moment to thank those who really have made an impact, who have been there in the good, the bad, the ugly and the late night booze influenced chat messages.

Take for instance, Casey at Navigating Cyberloss, who passed on the award of One Lovely Blog to me. Her blog is dedicated to nothing more than being that ever there shoulder to lean on. Do yourself a favor and go there now, her writings are beautiful, deep and heartfelt. She’s a person you need to know, 100% genuine and open. She inspires me daily.

unfortunately there’s always the rules with these things, and people always demand 7 things about me, which for me is much like pulling teeth. I’m pulling teeth for you all, feel special.

I am a self-taught knitter and crocheter. My grandmother tried to teach me when I was young and too stupid to appreciate the skills. I decided to learn the skills shortly after my first child was born for no real reason other than I wanted a new afghan. Two books later and bundles of yarn I can almost nail most of the basic and advanced skills… but I have yet to finish that afghan…

I have a secret desire to become a marathon runner. I’m also too lazy to pursue it. I blame it on having a wee one, and no place to run with a stroller.

I have two tattoos on my lower back. Both tribal, black ink only. One is a sun, with script for “Life” in the center, the other a horse.

I have four completely written, unedited books from NaNoWriMo, all urban fictions. And I keep telling myself I’ll dust them all back off… one of these days, maybe.

I am not a brave individual. I hate taking risks, and detest things I can’t control.

I still love legos.

My blog gives me daily conflict of wether to keep going with it or not… I am my own worst critic.

And now for the hugging:

Thanks (and this award) goes out to…

The Valentine 4 (I’m still trying to figure out how to steal her writing skills)

Sunbonnet Smart, who the world is most defiantly a better place because of her love for everyone she meets!

I could, and should add about 50 more people to the list of thanks. But getting all these links together and working took half a pot of coffee and over an hour. My dino-interwebs are about to die. Truly this blog would have died months ago without all of you! Thank You for everything!

It was hard on my son at first, he’d ask weekly where his big sister was. I’d lie flat out, saying, “Oh honey, she’s just been working really hard, she’ll call… one day.”

Except one day hasn’t come in over a year and a half. The phone has not rang in over 365 days.

He doesn’t ask about her anymore.

And how do you explain to a six-year-old that his big sister has run away because she thinks we’re sinners who are unchoosen? How do you tell those brown eyes that she doesn’t want us anymore? How do I break his heart ever so softly, when in truth, it’s all harsh?

How does anyone explain how a normal human being can take the bible so far out of context to believe that God is calling you to abandon everyone, even your own child to worship him? How does one praise from under a bushel?

I wrote almost daily after she disappeared. I had a blog specifically aimed at reaching her, knowing (with my lurky super spy skills) that she or her mother were online… but over the past year I’ve lost the words.

How many times can you say, “Come back, no matter what, we still love you”?

How many tears can be spilt over a keyboard?

How many prayers can be said alone in the cover of night?

I don’t cry anymore, not for her, not for her husband, not for her child, not for me. My soul will forever be broken for the loss that her father, my husband, is experiencing, a loss I’m not sure he will ever get past.

A loss I’m not sure we will ever get past.

Yet we have no choice. We must keep living. We don’t get the choice to run away from the things that hurt us.

And so my son forgets, and so I shall allow him to. Just for now. It feels safe to let him let go slowly, quietly, peacefully. It feels better, maybe easier to let him in on the hurt when his heart isn’t so young. When his mind can better understand… even if I’m positive my mind never will.

And maybe I’m quietly praying that she’ll come back before he ever feels the real loss…

If you don’t count the fact that I skipped every single weekend, I managed to complete NaBloPoMo for BlogHer. But was it Successful? Eh, for today I’m just going to sit back and say, “Who Cares!?” Which is a total lie because I do care, all too much sometimes.

But I come to appreciate the process of the whole you have to post come hell or high water attitude. At over now 100 post here at this blog, the one that was featured, was the one day I was grasping desperately for any idea on what to write… Okay so I might have had several days like that, but point being if I wasn’t forced, those words would have never been put here.

Pressure just to write does me good… I think. Pressure of stats is bad, very baddddddddd.

So I’m kind of sad to see this NaBloPoMo go, sort of. I think we sort of need each other… but I also need to re-paint most of my house and finish building the new goat hut… and there’s that book to finish writing…

It was just a dog. She kept repeating the phrase over and over again in her mind to fight back the flood of emotions. Just a dog, she told her mind. Just another dumb dog.

Just thirteen years, that’s all the time she spent with him. Just thirteen years spanning from college, to marriage, to children. Just a dog who took up her whole entire full-sized bed, just a dog who danced with butterflies, and chased snowflakes. She shook her head, trying to shake loose the vivid memories that were flooding her mind.

“Just a dog”, she reminded herself.

The children, her children, stared at her eyes after her husband hung up the phone, they watched her cracking heart as he said the word she was dreading the most. She swallowed hard the lump of death that was forming in her throat, digging her nails into her palms to remind her that she couldn’t react, not in front of the kids.

“Just a dog,” she told herself again.

Just a runt of the litter, worm bag that no one else had wanted. A pup her mother certainly was not happy about her bringing home. Just a runt who turned into a 90 pound Great Dane mix that could no longer fit into her Sunfire. Just a dog who she bought an SUV for, so they could continue their drives into the country, and the trips to agility practices.

“Just a dog, not a human.” She whispered.

Just a mutt who scared off the van full of strangers that had followed her home one night. Just an animal who had always been there when everyone else turned away. Just a dog who now was laying dead, waiting for her to take him away.

13 years, a life longer than ever expected. 13 years, not quite long enough. Just a dog… that everyone loved.

She took a deep breath as she made the turn, she bit her lip to keep it all in. Gripping the wheel tightly as the storms pounded outside her car, taking the dog for his last ride, past the trail they always walked, her and that dog.

Taking him past his favorite park, feeling his phantom breath on her chin, going so slow, so gentle to protect the memory from any harm. Letting it all play out in her head, the movie of her and that dog.

Breathing slow and deep, calculated, counting the hours, the moments, begging the memories to wait until they could be alone.

Until he was home, safe and sound, till the world was asleep, and he was secure under his tree. Just her and her dog, saying soft one-sided goodbyes…